The chat went quiet for a beat.
Then he added another line: "Prices are going up on everything these days. You people ought to raise yours too."
After the silence, the wind changed direction.
Someone piped up, echoing him:
"That's right, Ms. Rowe. Your company's huge. A hundred grand is just a word from you, isn't it? Why put your staff through all that hassle of moving?"
"We're small-time here. If you go, what are the rest of us supposed to do…"
"Ms. Rowe, why not calm down and try talking to the landlord again?"
I scrolled through them one by one, and the cold crept deeper into me.
Every one of those shops, I remembered.
The noodle place. Half a year ago it was one bad month from closing.
I had our admin team set up a group and rotate people through to give feedback, and the place came back from the dead.
The convenience store. Those first months after it opened, no business at all.
I signed an agreement so the whole company's staff purchases ran through her. That was what kept her afloat.
The coffee shop. I put money into it.
And now they were tagging me in the chat: "Ms. Rowe, think bigger."
"Don't let a little money sour things between us."
I couldn't help a small laugh.
Really something.
Then a few messages popped up in my private chat.
It was the owner of the flower shop I always went to, sending a careful little emoji: "Ms. Rowe, are you okay?"
I looked at the message, the corner of my mouth tugging up, and dialed a number.
"Any new buildings on the agent's end? The faster the better."
When John James, the agent, sent over photos of the fifth listing, I set the phone down after one glance.
"Ms. Rowe, I've combed this whole area for you," John sighed on the line.
"Either the square footage's too small, or the rent's even more insane than what you're paying now."
"I'll be straight with you." He dropped his voice.
"Yesterday I went to see that building. The talks were going fine. Then this morning the other side suddenly says they want twenty percent more."
"I asked what was going on. They got vague, said something about listings being in short supply around here."
I said nothing.
"That building's vacancy rate just cracked forty percent last month. In short supply?"
John didn't answer, but I had a pretty good idea by then.
A man Dirk's age, and still this small.
Except his word did carry weight.
Over the next two days I switched tack and started looking at parks farther out, but it was much the same.
The moment they heard it was my company, the price floated up.
As if the whole city knew I was in a hurry to leave.
Leila Fox from HR knocked and came in, her face grim.
"Ms. Rowe, I've got a few things to report."
"The tech team lead, Julian Whitney. Solomon Finch from supply chain. And Carter Perry, the veteran on the sales team."
"They all submitted their intent to resign this morning."
I froze for a moment. Julian was one of the earliest people who'd started this with me.
Solomon we'd poached at a high salary last year. Carter had been here six years.
"They all wrote 'personal reasons,' but when we talked off the record," Leila paused.
"They all brought up the relocation. Said the company feels unstable lately…"
"Some of them said the boss is dragging eight hundred-plus people through this just to spite the landlord, and they're afraid there'll be more of this kind of thing down the road."
I nodded, saying nothing.
Soon enough, a call came in from a client too.
Kevin Chavez. A client of three years, the new contract hammered out back at the start of the year, just short of the final signature.
"Ms. Rowe, I hear there's been some stir at your company lately? The staff are all saying you're moving?"
"There's a plan, yes."
"Oh… well, the contract, there's no rush on our end. How about we watch and see for a while?"
I hung up and leaned back against my chair, my temples pounding.
